


Fate

by Thearmoredhomo



Category: crossover - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 13:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17509103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thearmoredhomo/pseuds/Thearmoredhomo
Summary: its a rp related crossover ship sue me





	Fate

Titus grew up knowing his parents would be arranging his marital affairs- as was the fate of every prince before him.However, the young male was curious one day as to whether or not a true love existed for him out there, somewhere. The warrior prince would never let it be known that he actually held such a fantastical dream, but all were ultimately human.

He makes the trek to the oracle, alone and under cover of dark. The dark haired male approaches the innermost sanctum of the temple - nary a priest nor priestess questioning his presence, and he had no worry that they would speak of it outside the temple. Thin wisps of smoke snaked in the air from censers burning incense. He pulls back the hood of his cloak and was about to speak before she holds up a hand to stop him.

“So... The prince does believe in fate.” The tone and expression were uniquely void of sarcasm but Titus was sure it was there, somewhere.

“Do I even have to ask you?” His response was dry, Titus already regretted coming here and felt quite the fool for even feeling the compulsion to satisfy such base curiosities. “I’ll decide if I like it, and if not, I’ll just make my own fate.” Defiant and stark as ever.

She almost seemed to smile - were she capable of such a thing. The blond haired woman meanders about a basin of crystal clear water. “Well. You know how this goes, I can’t look into a blank slate.”

Titus walks to the basin slowly. Oh he knew, but that didn’t mean he’d give it up easily. The man smirks before hocking up a wad of snot and attempting to spew it into the basin. It required a part of him, never really said just where from. Just before he spits she appears beside him, hand slapping his chin up to close his mouth. Titus coughs on it for a moment before begrudgingly holding out his hand, producing a small blade and making a small cut.

No fun allowed, it seemed.

The oracle resumes her wandering, bright eyes staring intently into the golden basin. Where Titus only saw pinkening water she saw so much more. “Well?” He asks impatiently.

“The short of it is yes, There is a poor soul out there for you-”

“And the long of it? What’s the catch? I don’t care about whoever my parents marry me off to, this is the one I want.” He would find a way. Titus was dead set on it, and when he wanted something so badly there was no such thing as an obstacle.

She smiles, a rare sight for mortal eyes indeed. But the way she smiled didn’t make Titus feel better. There was most definitely some cosmic joke he wasn’t in on, and he didn’t like it. “I can’t tell you much but when you meet is quite the moment: The very earth trembles before them. An immovable object-” She looks to Titus for a moment, “- to the unstoppable force you are so known for being. You both look so oblivious to fate’s hand.” She looks as if there’s so much she wishes to say, “I can’t even explain how you feel. It is too much to merely ‘see’ and try to put to words. I’m sorry, I haven’t seen something like that before. I don't even think you realize it's love." She even laughs a little, making Titus give a little scowl and glare.

He turns to leave , "This was a waste of time. Don't know why I even bothered. To hell with fate and destiny, I'll make one a damn sight better than what some incense-addled soothsayer says." It wasn't so much that he didn't approve of it, she was just so damn cryptic and it pissed him off to no end. He wanted a name, to actually see it, to have some kind of proof. Words meant almost nothing to him, he was far more a man of action than words.

"One last thing, young Drautos....... If you fight it, destiny will fight you back. And knock you out." There was an odd way she spoke the last part, but he was already ignoring her. The large, young man storms from the temple, finding himself looking up at the stars when his irritation and temper fades off.

__________

He'd mostly forgotten about his visit some years later. And the day he was to meet this forcibly-betrothed of his was nigh. He received word that they made it to the city, and tomorrow would be when they were finally to meet. It was one of very few things Titus was not privy to the details of, and it made him all the more pissed about the whole ordeal. His life was not his own, and he'd started to realize that in his teens, more so as he got older.

The blue eyed man spent his last day of ignorant bliss at one of his favored places - the arena. He actually honed his skills quite heavily there, to date none managed to hold their own against him once Titus had reached adulthood. He sat slouched low in the throne, wholly bored with today's entertainment. The beasts had been slain, nothing really warranting Titus' attention despite the crowd loving all of it. He wanted a challenge - hell these days he'd settle for a gladiator worth sitting upright for. Recently he found himself more interested in the birds in the sky, or the dirt at their feet. The carcasses were hauled off as the 'victors' soaked in their faux glory. Titus scoffs and looks to the side - the fools wouldn't know a real fight were he to go down himself and give them one. His eyes travel to the empty seat beside him, huffing heavily to himself.

The large gate on the far side opens. Usually some far larger and more dangerous beast was rearing to turn the fighters to ribbons. Now that usually gave Titus a laugh. Perhaps and Behemoth, or a Jormungar, he heard their hunters trapped a Marlean Wyvern recently. He props his head up on his fist as he waits to see what came out.

The crowd dies down in anticipation, and when he hears mumbling confusion Titus looks over to see what was going on. Did the handlers forget to have the beast ready? When he looks over he sees not a beast but another contender coming from the gates. Every footstep he made Titus swore he could feel in the very stone beneath him. His head lifts from his hand, clearly his interest had been sparked, kindling some faint memory of his. Golden hair - clearly visible even from where Titus sat. He wore not a pauldron, harness, or any form of armor - even by the arena's standards, and they were pretty under geared. He wore only simple clothes, though he was quite large even in comparison to the fighters before him. Titus pondered recruiting him instead to the military, if he was as capable as he looked.

When the male stops so do the subtle tremors 

The male only bares a standard blade in one hand as he walks to the center. The sword points from one end of the lineup previous victors and sweeps across them all, a clear challenge to them all. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell any of them were going to turn down a seven on one - a bold statement. It actually reminded Titus of his own previous bouts in the ring. He certainly seemed to gain the excitement of the crowd - a good characteristic if this unfamiliar face looked to stick around. If he could back up such a challenge he may get high enough for the chance to lose to Titus himself.

Titus could only be so lucky.

The blond challenger strikes an unfamiliar pose before he actually makes the first move. Never had Titus seen that when someone challenged so many at once. It was always them on the defensive, waiting on one of the others to make their move. His eyes widen a little in surprise, the prince sitting up in his seat. One hand balls in the other, elbows digging into his knees as he leans closer to get a better view. This newcomer had garnered Titus' undivided attention and he hadn't even swung his blade yet.

The challengers were clearly unsure of what to do for a second, most deciding to play defensive to his assault. He disarms the first male with the ease of a father teaching his son for the first time, so deftly Titus made the mistake of blinking and missed just how he did it. He had to see how the man fought, how he moved, learn just where his weaknesses lay. The second male tries to impale him with a spear, but the blond pivots on his heel, the spear going through where he was a moment ago. He grabs the shaft and drives it through the first disarmed male. There wasn't a moments hesitation or second guess to his movements, that much was clear to Titus. He hadn't been this excited just watching a match in... Years now.

The blond takes a long slide forward, turning to give a powerful kick to the second gladiator, impaling him on the bottom of the spear he wielded. Titus' head tilts a little, he had points for creativity. The third gladiator also held a sword, deciding to take the offence too. The blond looks up at him and the two exchange only three blows before the sword's knocked from the number three's hand with a reverberating ring sounding across the arena. So clean and clear was the din of metal against metal, it always made Titus feel alive. The sword spun wildly in midair for a split second before the blond lashed out at it with his blade. It flew with precision into the chest of another gladiator. Titus noticed how the blond ground his blade against the other males - normally it'd just seem like some inexperienced slip, but Titus felt there was something at play. He'd done things like that before, and the suspense made him all the more on the edge of his seat,

There was no doubt this man was well trained. His style foreign, but none distinctly familiar to Titus. Skilled prey was ever the most fun for Titus. He cared little for the social nuances he was forced to learn, dealing with nobilities and so on. He would rather sit through a thousand boring arenas than have to host a single ball. However Titus was also highly aware there were many aspects to ruling, and he had to deal with the pros as much as the cons. 

Maybe he'd be lucky and his parents are marrying him off to some lass who enjoyed that kind of drivel. Leave the military and everything to him.

The one unarmed male and three remaining try ot bum-rush the blond. He parries two blades with his own, holding them back with his right arm. He slides just enough to avoid the other two, tripping them both into falling on the ground after giving a mighty heave to the two sword wielders. He flips back, making the two inadvertenly kill the weaponless gladiator. A rather impressive offense this male had, but Titus was sure his was better. Granted, seven on one did require some improvisation. Three remained, two with blades and one with an axe. They didn't seem to thrilled at being tricked into killing their temporary comrade.

Again Titus was sure there was something about the way he slid his sword along theirs. Perhaps the sparks were just for a bit of flash for the audience?  
Stark blue eyes dilate to the adrenaline, the thrill of watching what looked like a one-sided fight turn quite unexpectedly. Titus can feel his hair stand up on end, excited at the prospect of some new blood in the arena. He hadn't seen skill like this on most battlefields - and surely not in the colliseum.

But the three sprung at him quick as a whip, and the pace of the battle changed entirely. Now it was him on the defense, and Titus would swear it was an even bigger disadvantage on the gladiators part. The way he parried with a blade, his free hand moving as if he bore a shield in it too. "That's your game, eh?" Titus mumbles to himself, a little smirk on his lips. "A Phalanx." Such precise deflection, like the blond knew where their next three blows were going and what he'd do with them. He was a trained Phalanx, a defensive specialist. His attack was so good Titus would almost have missed it. He never bought the whole 'offense is the best defense' schtick, and had a scar or two to prove it. But it was obvious to him that the newcomer had no hesitation in using one over the other. But there was a subtle difference in level.

He narrows his eyes, trying to recall if he'd ever been pitted against one. If he had on the fields of battle then there were none that he could call worth their titles. Definitely none in the arena. 

There was almost a rhythm to the ring of steel, and a faint gold hue on the strangers blade was almost unnoticed by Titus. Almost. He smirk to himself, "Do it." He says quietly.  
In the moment it was like Titus was right there himself as everything slowed to a crawl. As if on cue the golden male gives a far-flung backflip. Titus sees him upside down, a deft twist of the body to spin and the blond gives two mighty heaves in the air. Crescent slashes form in midair, and with a third swing the X whistles through the air, defeating the remaining gladiators as swiftly as Titus had ever done before.

That's what he was doing earlier, sharpening that edge on the other blades.... He knew it wasn't on accident.

A rather flashy Technique, but definitely set himself above the garden variety contender. Titus couldn't even hear the roar of the crowd any more - he had his sights on one impressive opponent. The blond wiped sweat from his brow, noticing his shirt rather tattered from playing it a bit close on a few swings. He gives a yank and the shirt comes off in pieces at his feet. He raises his sword to the crowd as they cheer, a quite cocky grin on his face that Titus just yearned to remove.

The shirtless victor looks over to the champion's throne - where Titus sat. Their eyes meet for the first time, and Titus could swear they were the color of the sun itself. In another unexpected show of arrogance he plucks a spear from the earth nearby and throws it in the wall just under where Titus sat.

Mistake.

It will take more than a flashy Tech to even come close to beating Titus, and it seemed this fellow didn't know. Titus practically jumps from his seat, all too glad to rectify this first and last gravest of errors. No really, Titus actually jumps over the wall separating spectators from contestants. He lands on the ground with a thud. Too long had it been since he actually smelled ground zero. The scent of blood and dust all around him.

Titus doesn't give him a moments respite, heaving a Zweihander from one of the bodies as he bull-rushes the blond. The other hops back a step and readies himself. Left hand forward and low - sword eye level and pointed right for Titus. A typical stance for a bulwark of a fighting class, even if he had no shield.

The blond pivots on his heel just before contact, bringing his blade to bear against Titus' in full, equal and opposite force. His muscles flex hard and Titus gets a chill down his spine, a wild grin on his face as the two stare each other down with less than a foot between their faces. "Can you feel it?" The blond finally speaks. His voice was deep and rich, not a waver to be heard even as they both stand locked like this, "It's like fate itself is watching." His eyes actually were gold, as Titus thought. How strange.

A loud growl is given from Titus accompanies by a heavy shove, barely sliding the male back at all. This guy was a damn... An.... Immovable Object.... No. Titus was just getting started and he was damn sure an unstoppable force. An overhead swing comes down hard on the stranger, who lifts his blade at a deflecting angle, supporting the sword with his other hand now. Titus slides back from the diversion of force. He growls again, circling the male for a moment. "Your name. Now."

The blond is quiet for a moment, but only just, "How about Titan? Atlas may be better." The crowd cheers Atlas as the apparent crowd pleaser. He smirks at Titus, knowing good and well that's not the kind of name he meant.

There was such an excitement, though, even if Titus wouldn't show it, in not defeating someone in a few simple strikes. "Enjoy your five minutes of fame, then." The hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he readies himself. Before Titus moves this 'Atlas' goes for the initiative, a surprising speed of blows forcing Titus to actually put on quite the show for the crowd. Most people were too afraid to take a shot at him - he'd almost forgotten what it was like.

The male slides back a step, hilt up by his head as he aims his blade forward once more. The opening was but a fraction of a second but he identified it and flung his blade up, Atlas' blade soared high above them, impaling itself in the ground a distance away from them. The crowd watched with baited breath, as disarming someone was ever the decisive move. Titus smiles, blade pointed at Atlas. Still he seemed wholly unmoved, though.

He had such a stubborn, adamant look about him. Even unarmed he wasn't going to just give up. Titus had to admit, he had balls bigger than anyone else that died on this ground. The blue eyed male swings back, the blond balling up his fists. He stomps the ground and a chunk of earth jumps up. Atlas pivots and kicks the mass to Titus, A terramancer, also? Nice ace to have up one's sleeve. The veteran of the arena cleaves it in two with ease, the boulder splitting in two. He supposed that explained the subtle tremors he felts when the male entered the stage. 

'The earth trembles before them.'

The dust clears and Titus realized he didn't see Atlas any more, but too slow to react when he hears him sliding alongside him. One thick arm's wrapped around Titus' waist as the blond slides behind him, connecting with his other arm as he gives a heave, suplexing Titus into the dirt and making him drop his own blade. He pushes off of Atlas and scrambles to his feet, no longer playing around and actually quite pissed. Titus yanks his shirt off and the two males ball up their fists before giving the meanest, loudest battle shout at each other they had. They both roared over their fans, muscles flexed to their limits in such a high display of masculinity - if not a little barbaric.

It was like the two were baring their souls to each other, in their own unique way and in the most powerful way they knew how. Both young men stare each other down, chests heaving and brows furrowed, cuts here and there and dirt smeared everywhere. Their shouting at each other made their audience lose their minds, and they were well beyond trying to impress the crowds. Clearly their martial skills were on par, and the blond every bit as defiant as Titus himself was. If they didn't kill each other Titus had to drink with him.  
It felt like eons passed as they trade blow for blow. Hand to hand combat felt far more personalized, like he was actually learning what the guys personality was like just by how he fought with his bare fists. Eventually both stubborn mules fall the the ground in a mess of what was largely their blood, dirt, and some of the previous gladiators' blood as well. Workers scramble to get the two males apart from each other while they're unconscious lest one wake up and do the other dirty.

'Destiny will fight you back, and it will knock you out.' it was the last thing Titus remembered thinking.

Perhaps he should have listened.

Yeah, right.

Titus came to sometime the next morning, his first waking thought was about tracking down that 'Atlas' and getting a legit rematch, one where he'd be more than prepared this time. He looks in the mirror, assuming healers tended to him since there was such minimal injury save for a few bruises. He was pretty sure they left those minor aches to remind him of how boneheaded he was. They'd been doing it for years and it hasn't made Titus any different.

Then everything really came back to Titus and he groaned into his hands. There was no way... Right? Just some funny coincedences. Besides he told her where she could stick her little vision and he'd do what the fuck he wanted. That guy was nothing more than an opponent, a rival. Albeit a long-awaited one that he was actually quite excited to have.  
Maybe he'll just give up on it all, resign himself to his fate that was ordained to him by his parents. Maybe when he's king he can let his kids live their lives for themselves, instead of for him. He sighs at the prospect of having to produce heirs. A matter he's sure the king and queen have also taken into consideration.

He gets dressed for this dinner they were due to have with the family of his fiance. Finding his way to the common room, he spots his parents easily enough. His mother scolds him lightly for getting into a brawl and looking like a fourth class pub-brawler when he knew he was supposed to look his best today. "Can we just get this over with? Been in the dark about it for most of my life. I swear if you married me off to some shrill, obnoxious woman I will behead her myself."

The three of them are driven to one of the best restaurants their city had to offer where they were going to meet up. The owner was told to keep a very limited guest list for that day, as they didn't want too much background noise or eavesdropping on their conversation tonight.

It seemed that the Drautos' were there first, but it wasn't long before two faintly familiar faces showed. Not that Titus could be bothered to have remembered their names. He knew they were foreign, assumed some kind of ambassadors or something.

Apparently... They were his future queens parents. Oops.

Titus hears his own mother making some concerned noise towards someone behind the father, "Reiner honey did you have some fight with the locals?" When the parents sit Titus can see who she was fretting over just as he replies.

"You should see the other.......Guy." The familiar voice trails off when he looks over and those golden eyes once again make contact with Titus'. Too stunned to form a coherent sentence as everyone sits down he made a mental note to put every curse known to man on that godforsaken oracle. No wonder she had such a glib expression. The two were sat beside one another at no coincidence or their consent.

"So...." Reiner breaks ice after ordering, "Am I marrying his sister or something?"

Clearly he was as confused -and slow- as Titus was. The male shook his head, "Nope. No sister. Afraid you're getting the shaft on this one, sunshine."  
The blond scoffs with a clearly amused expression, "If anyone's getting a shaft it's going to be you. Hope you take it better than you can apparently dish it." Reiner mumbles just barely enough for Titus to hear.

"I recall you passed out a bleeding mess on my arena ground."

"Oh no did I knock some brain loose? Your memory seems to be foggy."

The little back-and-forths didn't really stop for quite a while, them both trying to also maintain normal conversation with their parents and each others'. He made Titus' blood run hot just talking. And he dreaded that he enjoyed the thrill of someone actually keeping him on his toes and in check.

"Well, I expected them to be at each other's necks with the steak knives. I think they actually like each other." One of the fathers pipes up, receiving a death glare from them both. "We know it's not what either of you expected but we've been over the details and both our kingdoms have a great deal to gain. Yeah neither of you are fair maidens but hey you're both strapping guys." Oh now his father wants to lay on the compliments.

Titus exhales deeply, "You know there's no precedence for this. And I really didn't expect you to be this...." Reiner kicks him with the side of his foot to choose his words carefully. "Progressive." Titus kicks him back afterwards.

This was going to be an unending dominance struggle, he could just feel it. "Times change. Neither families have a daughter, not for lack of trying." 

"Okay first off - gross. Second - Really fucking gross." It was like Reiner read his mind. He touches his forehead as he thinks, "You know what? Fine. I've never run from a challenge. But I think we should be more involved in all these intentions of yours. And some time to get better acquainted."

Titus sits and listens, eating idly as he analyzes every word Reiner speaks. So he is more than muscles, a handsome mug, and an exemplary fighting repertoire. Maybe there was a little more in common than his stubborn ass wanted to admit.


End file.
